


World In My Eyes

by MFTMROSE88



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, Angst, Bands, Drama and Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language, Love, Music, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFTMROSE88/pseuds/MFTMROSE88
Summary: Caught in the webs of falling for a man who is in one of the most popular bands in the world, and all that entails.[Set from 1985 to the mid-90s]
Relationships: Alan Wilder/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Something To Do

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there ! Haven’t written a piece for awhile and finally felt creative enough to do so. Currently writing the second chapter as of now, hope y’all like this one! Xx (-:

  
**_Japan, April 1985_ **

The hotel seems to have a glimmer to it, with the windows reflecting the setting suns rays onto the building beside it. When I step off of the airport bus and onto the pavement, the smells of wet asphalt that was once poured down on by the rain storm that has moved just to the east of the city by now. It’s cold, but it’s not too freezing. Nearing the entrance to the lobby, I notice that there seems to be a gathering near the side of the hotel. I place my bag on my shoulder and head to check in. 

I’m next in line, so I rifle through my wallet for my identification and cards as the clerk calls me up to her desk. “Are you here for the concert tonight?” The hotel clerk lady asks with a smile.

“Oh, no- concert? No. I’m here on a business trip,” I explain, a small chuckle escaping. Handing the pen back to her, three teenage girls all gasp in my direction, saying something in Japanese that I can’t quite understand. I turn to look to see what they’re so astonished at. 

A man with sunglasses is at the opposite end of the check-in desk, talking to another man that looks almost similar. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Screams one of the girls.

The two men turn to face the girls, as does everyone else in the lobby. The teens are joined by two more girls and one young boy, all holding a copy of an LP. “Please, please, will you sign my record?” They all seem to say in unison, barking at the men with excitement and almost shoving the records in their faces. I can’t hear the rest of the conversations since they’ve gathered quite a crowd around themselves, signing away as hastily as possible. Suddenly, a man taller than both of the men with sunglasses comes up from behind them and tries to dilute the crowd. 

“ _Alright_ , _alright_ , settle down now everyone. We’ve got to get going now,” he announces as he creates a barrier between himself, the fans and the two men who have now handed the pens and records back to the fans. They leave the scene with luggage behind them and trail away to the lifts. The small crowd slowly dissipates, with some of the kids displaying a frown, leaving with their memorabilia unsigned.

“Miss?” The voice of the clerk snaps me back into focus. “Here are your keys. Room thirty-four, second floor.”

“Thanks. Who were those men?” I ask, grabbing the keys from the counter. The men with sunglasses now disappear into an elevator. 

“Oh, they must be the performers for tonight. I can’t remember the name,” she says, half distracted. She smiles at me. “Have a good evening, miss.”

“You too.”

On the way to the lift, I notice a somewhat small hotel restaurant to the right of me with music blaring, packed to the brim with teenagers and young adults. I walk further, about to press the lift button until a young man asks me something. I can barely understand it, although I like to say I can speak the native language here, it takes time to register. He’s still talking, and pulls out what looks like a ticket for the concert tonight. “A ticket?” I ask, confused at first.

He nods, and now I can understand him; he’s saying that his friend cannot make it to the concert, so he wants to know if I want to buy the ticket. The way those fans reacted to those two lads just a few minutes ago has me intrigued to check their gig out. Besides, what can be the harm? _Work doesn’t start until tomorrow, so why not?_

“I’m sorry I haven’t had time to exchange any money yet, will this be enough?” He nods and I hand him forty US dollars. He thanks me and smiles, turning to head to the restaurant.

I analyse the ticket a bit and step into the lift when it opens. ‘Depeche Mode, doors at 8:00pm,’ it reads. I check my watch, noticing the time is seven on the dot. I’ve only got an hour to unpack and freshen up.

***

“Your ticket, please?” the usher holds his hand out.

I take the ticket from my skirt pocket and hand it to him. He takes a whole puncher out and stamps it, handing it back to me and moving along to the person behind me. The seat isn’t very difficult to find. It’s located three rows up from the general admission floor, sitting beside the left area of the stage. 

An hour into waiting, the lights dim and “Depeche Mode” comes onto stage, starting off the gig with a rather bombastic song that makes the crowd turn into a madhouse. The crowd almost looks like an ocean wave, moving back and forth, left to right. I can’t imagine what it’s like at the very front of it. 

The lead singer is all over the place. Dancing, very weirdly I might add, and spinning around in circles with his microphone stand. The two keyboard players in the back only look up every once in a while and sort of dance; except for the one who is very intently focused on the quality of his performance- the tall, browned haired one. At this point I can recognise and pinpoint who those men were in the lobby. The very energetic singer and the serious keyboardist. 

I hardly notice how long it’s been. I must admit, they’re really putting on a show- it’s been over an hour since the concert began. The last song opens with a keyboard riff that I instantly recognise, It’s been played on the radio almost everywhere I go! The three keyboardists all add backup vocals for the lead singer on parts of the verse and chorus alike. “I just can't get enough,” they repeatedly sing in unison, as the crowd gets louder and the music suddenly fades to a stop. The theatre is roaring with cheers, whistles and claps.

“Thank you!” The singer adds, holding his hand up with a wave. “Thank you very much!”

And with that, they all walk off stage, each waving a hand before they leave. My seat is very close to where they exit. Fans screaming the words ‘I love you’ right beside me, making my ears hurt from the high pitched loudness. 

It takes a while for everyone to funnel out of the music hall. I sit there, waiting for everyone to leave.

The place is almost empty when security ushers me and the rest of the crowd out of the building. I should’ve known better than to wear heels to an event like this; it’s almost like stop and go traffic just to get out of here. When I get out to the lobby area, a bunch of people are waiting outside for their rides and taxis and all of that. It’s completely empty in here now, I don’t even know how things cleared up that fast. But I’m not complaining, since the restaurant finally looks available to sit in at last. I haven’t eaten anything since I had breakfast. But I’m not really sure if a twenty four hour restaurant will satisfy that hunger. 

I sat at the bar and ordered Ramen and a hard seltzer cocktail. I have many photoshoots to complete tomorrow, and a lot of meetings with different modelling agencies. I decided to have a drink because it couldn’t hurt.

I hand the bartender a check. Then, a burst of laughter and chatter abrupts from behind me. Oh great. It’s two members from the band, and they look sweaty- which isn’t surprising considering the gig ended probably about forty-five or so minutes ago now. They order cocktails and beers for themselves. One of them doesn’t seem to be at all sober to begin with. They’re sitting two chairs away from me, stealing glances in my area.

“Hey, _you_ ,” says one man, whom I recognise as the singer. “What’s a girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?”

I notice the accent of his almost instantly. _So they’re from Basildon_. His friend, the serious looking one, seems to shrink into his chair, cheeks look to be a bit flushed in the dim lighting.

“As you can see, I’m not just sitting here composing a fuckin’ orchestra number,” I finally say with a smirk, gesturing to my food. It comes off rather sharp, making the two men look at me with surprised expressions- the man behind him stifling a laugh.

“Oi, a fellow Brit! What a rare and refreshing sighting around here. You’ve got a lot of fire in you for such a tiny little thing,” he says, sticking his hand out for me to take. “I’m Dave. This is Alan, me mate. He’s quite shy,” he teases, playfully nudging his friend’s chest. 

I shake his hand, and Alan offers me his hand to shake as well, and I oblige. “I’m Mia. I’m sorry if I came off rather blunt. I’ve just had a long day.”

“That’s alright. You’re from London, yes?” Dave asks, shifting in his seat to face me completely.

“Yes, around. You two are from Basildon?” 

Alan nearly chokes on his drink. “No, just him. I’m from Acton,” he explains, almost defensively. 

“Yeah, this pretty boy is from Acton!” Dave says in a high pitched voice. Alan just smiles and shakes his head at his friend’s actions. He seems used to it by now.

I dryly laugh. “Very pretty, indeed.”

Alan looks at me, smirking, giving me a wink. Dave is almost on the floor dying from laughter. I get up from my chair and sit next to Alan. “How many drinks has he had?” I ask him, trying to hold back my laughs. Dave turns round to me, counting on his fingers. “About six now, I can get further than that! Sir, pour some bourbon for the lot of us, will you?” He asks the bartender, sliding him cash.

“Were you at the gig?” Alan questions.

I down the drink that’s been placed in front me by the man behind the counter and turn to him. “Yes, I was actually. You guys are very… enthusiastic in your workplace,” I say, eyeing Dave.

“Ah. Yes, Dave is quite the performer,” he says, patting him on the back. 

Dave arches his eyebrows, “I get all the ladies going,” he adds with a wink.

I schoff and drink my refilled glass to emptiness once again. “Well, I didn’t go anywhere,” I joke, making Alan and Dave break out into laughter.

The laughs go on and on for what seems like hours. The heavy taste of liquor trickles down my throat very intensely, it being our seventh round on this drink. But I can’t be sure, I’ve lost track. My vision is getting somewhat shaky, but it’s not that bad yet. I look to the wall above that has a big clock mounted to it. 2:08am, it reads. We’ve been talking for about two hours now. I notice a man in the corner of my eye, he’s the keyboardist that is stationed in the middle. And he’s walking into the restaurant. “This is where you have been?” He says to his friends as he strolls up. They turn to look at him but they wave him off, distracted by their ongoing discussion about boats. Yes, boats. “Jesus christ,” he adds, “you guys are absolutely fucking pissed.”

“Oh,” the blonde man speaks again and stammers back when he notices me sitting and watching. “I’m uh, Martin. Who might you be?” He asks, fixing his posture.

“Not so fast, Mart,” Dave says with a slurred voice at the end of his sentences. “She’s not going to shag you.”

Martin’s face turns red. “Piss off.”

“Mia, I’m Mia,” I answer, finally registering the question he asked me. I can barely keep my eyes open.

“You’ve got her clobbered too, I see,” Martin says, almost with a hint of worry in his voice. The guys start talking but every little word they speak is fading in and out.

“I have to go, I have to go..um.. to sleep,” I say, almost mumbling. I muster enough strength and control of my limbs to actually climb off of the stool chair, but as soon as I step off, I trip and almost fall to my knees before Alan quickly grabs me by the waist and pulls me back up. Martin is telling Dave something, but I can’t make out what they’re talking about. 

“Love, let’s get you upstairs,” Alan mutters to me softly. I nod and grab onto the hems of his jacket for support.

Alan tells the two that he is going to walk me to my room, and that’s when Martin and Dave exchange smirks. We start to walk and when we reach my floor, it’s almost as if we’re holding each other up and helping one another with reading the room numbers on the doors. The two of us are too plastered for any of this. Opening the door to the suite, he starts to say goodbye, but I grab his hand, pulling him inside of the room. “You can stay, _if you’re good_.” I don’t even know what I’m saying or doing anymore. Everything feels fuzzy and my legs are tingling. He smiles, closing the door behind him. 

He takes his boots off and I’m close to him, very, very close. 

He’s staring directly into my soul, it feels like. In a fleeting moment, we both lock lips with the most powerful intensity- I don’t know where this strength of mine has come from at the moment. 

He presses me gently into the wall, laying soft, wet kisses onto my neck. I clasp my hand to the back of his gelled hair, moving his head slightly to position our lips together again. The bed isn’t far from us, so we stray onto it; he throws his leather jacket on the edge of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt, hastily taking it out from the loops and throwing it to the floor. He’s positioned himself above me, our lips once again intertwined with wet kisses. I notice him start to unbutton his pants. He lifts off my shirt, beads of sweat forming on the creases of his forehead.

Everything feels like a blur after that, but we finally drift asleep and I don’t even care about the makeup on my face that I have to wash off. 

***

Beep, beep, beep. The alarm suddenly goes off, filling the room with the loudest noise no one never wants to hear in the morning. I jolt awake, almost falling off of the bed. I move my hair out of my face and hurriedly turn off the clock. 7:46AM.

The bed is in shambles, the duvet is on the floor and the inner sheets are hanging on the side of the bed. Memories from last night start to play in my head; there’s a few potholes, but I definitely remember a man from the band, Alan, walking me to my room. We kissed, but I can’t recall anything else. But I think the state of my room suggests that we didn’t just fall asleep. I look in the mirror, horrified at how I look. I still have makeup on my face, my hair is tangled. An absolute mess. I freshen up and call housekeeping to fix my bed. The lady gives me almost a look and sigh of disappointment as she shakes her head at me- I awkwardly smile, trying to ignore her expressions. 

I took a few pills earlier to relieve the headache I’ve formed while drinking all of those drinks last night and threw on a pair of sunglasses, because the outside world is just too bright right now.

The day goes by slowly. I feel horrible all day, my head pounding throughout photoshoots. I tried my best to not physically show my discomfort, hopefully. I modelled for a few dress pieces and outfits, and so many people asked me if I was alright wherever I went. Did I really look that distraught? Who knows. I sure as hell didn’t.

I didn’t care much about how today went, anyway. I needed to find Alan as soon as possible when I got back to the hotel. 

“I’m sorry, miss, we can’t disclose that information to you,” said the hotel clerk when I asked about a room number under a certain name. “Please? I really need to speak with him,” I plead. She turns to me, reluctant to answer my question. She looks apologetic. “Mr. Wilder, was it?” I nod. She then takes a book log and reads for the name. “The room number is twenty five, on the tenth floor,” she whispers, leaning closer to me. I smile, “Thank you so much.”

When I’m finally on the tenth floor, I step out of the lift and see a small arrow pointing to the left, reading ‘Rooms 1-25.’ The room is located at the end of the hall. I knock on it twice, nothing. I wait a few more minutes and knock again. Quiet, shuffling footsteps come up to the door, and he opens the door and looks surprised, looking me up and down. “Um, hello,” I say, “Can I come in?” He nods and opens the door wider. The bathroom has fresh steam flowing out of it, the mirrors all foggy. His hair is still damp, and he smells clean. 

“Last night, um, I didn’t expect any of that really,” he finally says, breaking the silence. I sit on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. What the bloody hell happened? I can barely remember any of it,” I say. He sits on the bed beside me and tries to think. 

“I.. all I remember is Dave and I sitting at the bar, talking to you. And after that, I took you to your room. Things got a little… intimate, I’m afraid, and well…”, he falters, looking down to his hands. “I left your room at about six this morning. When… things took a turn, when we got to your room, we didn’t get far. You told me you needed to wake up early in the morning, and… you kept saying something about you not wanting to do anything further than kissing, so we didn’t. That’s all I remember,” he adds. He looks very deep in thought. “And, for the cherry on top, I’ve got this fucking searing headache.”

I try to remember everything he’s saying, but some of it is just so blocked from my mind it starts to make my brain pound again. “Me too.”

“I think I have some pain reliever somewhere in here,” he says, getting up to check his suitcase. He grabs a bottle of pills and takes four out, two for him and two for me. He grabs two water bottles from the counter and hands the two pills and a bottle to me. “That should take the edge off a little.”

“Thank you.”

We both swallow the pill at the same time. “So… was that the reason you came up here?” He asks. 

“Yes. I just needed someone to clear it up for me, the bed was pretty thrown about when I woke up, so I just thought…you know, without really knowing what was going on at the time...that we, uh...,” I ramble, cheeks blushing.

“Oh- um….As far as I can recall, nothing like that happened,” he seems to blush too. I let out a sigh of relief that I didn’t even know I was holding in. He looks at me, raising his eyebrows. “Why? Would you have been mortified if something like that did happen? _With me?_ ”

I turn to him shaking my head. “No, no, I just… we don’t even know each other, I’m sorry if I offended y-”

“I’m messing with you. I understand, really I do,” he laughs, rubbing my back. 

I laugh and look back down to my hands. “You know, Alan, I’m free tonight…,” I start, and he looks at me with confusion. “Maybe we can go somewhere? Tonight? I don’t know, we could just-”

He chuckles. “Are you asking me out?” 

I blush and turn my head to him. “Well, I was hoping, maybe you would do the honours.”

“I haven’t been on a date in almost a year,” he admits. Maybe not something you’d want to admit out loud. 

“Are you joking?” I ask, laughing.

“No,” he says with nervous laughter. “Never mind that. Mia, would you like to go out tonight?”

I smile. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

  
We leave for dinner at seven. He said that the place is very fancy, so ‘dress like you own the place’ was his tip. I slip on my red, silk button up shirt and black leather skirt. I figured a dark red lipstick would suit the atmosphere, along with dark, sheer leggings under the skirt and ankle boots that add almost three inches to my height. I’m not very tall to begin, which is why so many people question how I’m even a model at all. A knock comes from the door, I swing it open, revealing Alan standing there dressed with a black shirt and black jeans. A coat is folded over his right arm. He’s staring me up and down. “Ready?” he asks. He averts his eyes back to your face. I smile, “Yes, you?” I ask. He nods, placing his hand on my back.

He was right; this place is top notch. They’ve sat us in an almost empty area part of the restaurant. Alan orders a feast for us, probably too much he realises now that we’ve only eaten half of each dish. We’re in a high rise building, overlooking downtown Tokyo. You can see for miles. I look back to Alan, who is already looking at me.

“This is silly, isn’t it?” I say, holding back a laugh. Alan tilts his head. 

“What is?”

“ _This_ ,” I gesture, pointing to him and myself. “We’ve quite literally just met twenty four hours ago, and I’ve got you tied up on a date.”

He chews his food and swallows, looking down at his plate. “I don’t think it’s silly. I’m a man, you’re a woman, we are both very young, why shouldn’t we be spontaneous? Besides, it’s not like we’re getting married here. It’s just dinner,” he smiles, reassuringly.

I nod and look back out the window. “I know, it’s just- it’s just. Well, I don’t know.”

“Yeah… you should eat that, it’s going to get cold,” he says, pointing to the dish in front of me. 

I take a few more bites of my food, chewing slowly. “How long have you guys been touring?”

“Well, we just started this leg on the seventh of April. Just several days ago, we finished our leg in the States, our last show there was in Oakland actually.”

“On the 3rd?”

“Yes,” he nods.

“No way,” I smile wide. “I was around there, in San Francisco. I was even offered a ticket from my agency because they sponsor that venue, or something like that. How weird.”

He smirks. “Seems we’ve had some sort of connection from the start, then.”

“Evidently. How long have you guys been together? You know, as a band?”

“Oh, I’ve only been in this lineup for… almost three years now. But they’ve been around about five years, actually.” I raise an eyebrow. He looks at my confused expression and chuckles. “To elaborate,” he adds, sipping his water, “I was hired as a stand-in, you know, sort of just a touring musician back in ‘82. It wasn’t until early 1983 I got to contribute musically within the group. Things felt a bit tense when I first met them, but everything worked out and has been functioning well ever since.”

“Wow…”

“Quite a mouthful, innit? What about you? Have any secrets?” He smiles, raising both eyebrows. 

“Nothing interesting, really. I’m just a model. I’m bossed around and barked at all day when I do photoshoots and all that.”

“Definitely can say that I get where you’re coming from with that,” he says. “I know a thing or two about photoshoots, to say the least…”

“They are really not fun, that’s for sure. I’ve been doing this for almost four years now, since I turned nineteen,” I explain. “By the way, I never asked. Just how old are you, Alan?”

“Been around the sun twenty five times. But that will change soon. My birthday’s on the first of June. You?”

“I’m twenty two. My birthday is on October the third.”

“Ah I see. You’re only three years younger than me,” he says, looking out the window. He checks his watch. “It’s getting late, were you finished, love?”

“Oh yes, I’m done. Thank you.”

We don’t take any leftovers back to the hotel. We figured it was too much to bring, and plus there weren’t any ways to heat the food for later. The lift seems to go up the floors in slow motion, none of us speaking one word. We finally reach my door, and I open it so the both of us can stand under the door frame. 

“So uh, I’m leaving tomorrow. In the morning,” Alan states, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really have to get some sort of contact information from you,” he winks. 

“Yes. Here,” I take a blue card from my wallet. 

“A business card?”

“Yep. All yours,” I say, grinning widely.

He smiles and looks to my lips, and he wraps his arms around my back, pulling me into him. He bends his neck to reach my face and the kiss lasts long, but I don’t mind. I haven’t had something like this in a long time.

“I’m sure I’ll find the time to call,” he says in a low voice, pulling away from my lips. “I’ll see you around, love.”

“Thank you for dinner, Alan. See ya,” I whisper just for him to hear. He nods and plants another kiss on my lips, turning around and giving a small wave. I watch him walk down the hall to the lift, and he disappears behind the walls. 

I shut the door and stare out of the window, taking in the view of the city that unfolds for miles and miles, the lights glittering in the distance reflecting onto my face.


	2. Strangely Muted

“Your boarding ticket, miss?”

“Oh, yes, here,” I hand the woman behind the counter my ticket so she can stamp it.

I find my seat on the plane which is located by the left wing, but I slide down the window covering because the sight of being thirty thousand feet from the ground doesn’t sit well with me just yet. The plane is not overly crowded this time, on the way home to England, but it’s quite small in here. You’d think the multi-millionaire company I work for could spare me a private jet, yes? I guess I can keep dreaming. 

It’s been more than a month since I’ve seen Alan. He’s called me five times since he got home. We haven’t had much time to talk since he explained he had promos to shoot for the band’s latest single, and of course, I’ve been doing various shoots and small fashion shows in Tokyo. Work has been very tedious and every day I went to an appointment, I came back feeling drained of any energy, so I spent my last week reading in nearby gardens every afternoon—where the cherry blossom trees resided in their full glory. And in full bloom, since Spring is at its peak right about now. 

The lights of London shine below as the plane makes it landing down onto the runway. It feels good to actually walk around after a flight duration like that one. Throwing my coat on, I lug my suitcase behind me and yawn. I can almost feel the weight of the bags underneath my eyes. The walk to the pickup zone is not long, however it feels like I’ve been walking miles. I sit on a bench to wait for another wave of Taxis to come by since they’ve all just been taken by the arriving passengers. As I look at myself in my compact mirror, a car comes rolling up, honking two times and stopping right in front of me. At first I ignore it, but a tall man in a leather trench coats steps out from the car and waves me over. I squint at him and look behind me, checking to see if he’s gesturing to another person. But there’s no one there. 

I grab my luggage and reluctantly step forward, and as soon as I walk just a few more feet closer to the car, I know exactly who it is. 

“Alan?” I ask, stopping near the passenger door. He comes round and smiles, taking my suitcase from me and placing it in the trunk. 

He laughs, closing the trunk with a bit of force. “You’ve forgotten that I was picking you up, haven’t you?”

I think back to our last conversation on the phone and start to remember how I was telling him about what terminal and area I’d be at, at what time too. 

“I’m sorry, I guess I did,” I say, slipping into the car and closing the door. He sits down in the driver seat and shifts into drive. 

“That’s alright. You look exhausted.”

“To say the least.”

The car engine revs and in just a few minutes, we’re on a motorway. We sit in silence for a few minutes until he switches on the stereo; a song I’ve not yet heard of playing softly through the speakers. 

“So how was everything?” He finally speaks, glancing at me.

“It was okay… just, really, the same thing over and over again,” I say, leaning my head onto the side of the car.

“And your flight? No problems?”

“No, not really. I think we encountered a bit of turbulence in the middle of the flight but it’s all quite foggy. I couldn’t sleep at all.”

He nods and drives on, switching lanes every once in a while. London’s lights are now at a distance as we stop and park at a diner that’s lit up with red and blue neon lights. 

We are seated by a window booth, and the waitress happily takes our orders as soon as possible. The jukebox radio in the corner of the diner echoes out ‘Eyes Without a Face’ by Billy Idol. It’s one of my favourites from him and it really accentuates the atmosphere in here beautifully.

I sip my hot chocolate as soon as it’s placed in front of me and hum along quietly. Alan looks up from his plate of food. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

I nod. “I’m not hungry, I haven’t really had an appetite recently. I’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

He looks slightly concerned, but decides to shake it off and let me be. 

“We go back on tour in July, you know, if you want to come. It’s the last leg of this tour.”

“I would love to tag along. I hope I’m available.”

“I hope so too. We’ve also got a few promos to shoot, and a couple of radio shows to present on… this week actually. To promote the latest single.”

“No photoshoots?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. They always seem to squeeze in on our schedules somewhere.”

I nod, and lean back in the booth.

“I should get you home, love. C’mon,” he gets up from his seat and extends his hand out to me, pulling me up and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. We stop at the front counter while he pays the bill. 

The drive down to my flat is quiet with the radio station humming faintly and the windows slightly down, air flowing in. The smell of gasoline and wet cement finds its way inside the car. It rained, while we ate, but I didn’t even notice. Alan told me it’s been raining all week down here, off and on. 

We finally roll up to my place, and I dig for my keys inside my purse. Alan follows behind me, pulling my luggage and carrying my small duffel bag. My flat isn’t very far from the entrance, it’s ground level, which makes everything better for me at least. As the door to my place closes behind us, I flip on the living room lights—but a bright flashing light followed by a roaring crack of thunder bursts from the outside, and in a split second all of the lights I had turned out just now are shut off instantly.

“Shit,” I sigh. “Hold on.”

Just a bit of moonlight is creeping in through the windows and I can hear the rain fall down by the buckets full out there. I use the walls as a guide to the kitchen and find matches and a candle on the counter. Once it’s lit, I head back to the front area where he’s standing, waiting for me. 

“This hasn’t happened in awhile…,” I say, placing the candle on the table in front of us. 

“You seem prepared.”

“Yes, well, this building has a tendency to dysfunction... even when there’s no storms.”

The light from the candle illuminates his face just slightly, and I can see his lips forming a grin.

“What?”

His grin turns to a smile. “Nothing, just thinking.”

“Okay…,” I shake my head at him and grab my suitcase to unpack. “Do less of that and light more candles, yeah?” 

Another series of lightning and thunder rattles the building. Alan places three more candles on the table, but I pick two up and walk to my bedroom. He follows with the rest and I hear the door softly shut behind him. The candles dim out from a sudden breeze, but I grab the matchbox and reignite the flame on just one.

I go to my drawer and take out an oversized shirt and hand it over to him. “I’m assuming you’re staying, then? Here’s a shirt. I think it’s the only thing I’ve got that will fit you.”

“Thanks. I mean… I’ll only stay if you want me to…,” he falters. 

“Don’t be daft,” I chuckle, “what do you think I’m handing you a shirt for?”

“I thought maybe you’d want me to model it for you,” he furrows his eyebrows and grins widely again. 

“Very funny.” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Just change already won’t you.”

“You first,” he says with a smirk, pursing his lips.

“ _Alan_ …”

“I’ll behave, I promise.”

I turn around and take my coat off, placing it on a chair and quickly unbuttoning my cardigan. He sits on the bed and throws his boots off to the side, the buckles from his belt clanking together as he rolls it up. I slip my tee on and change into a pair of shorts.

“When do you think the power will be back on?” He asks in a quiet voice.

I turn around and notice him looking at me. “Erm, I dunno. The landlord usually doesn’t come ‘round till morning to call someone, so I’m assuming by then.”

“I see.”

The breeze fills the room again and it sends shivers all over me. I had forgotten the heater is also out as well. 

“Come on then,” I gesture to the bed, lifting the sheets and sliding in. He caps the candle and now the room is completely pitch black. The storm clouds seemed to have covered the moon’s light entirely, causing the sky to turn an eerie dark grey. The lightning and thunder have moved to the north of us.

Alan makes his way to the vacant side of the bed and slips in next to me, keeping a respective distance between us. I keep getting the chills though, so I move closer to him once he gets settled.

“Getting comfortable, aren’t we?” 

He moves his arm and wraps it around me, pulling me in tighter. I yawn and rest my head on the side of his chest. “No, I’m just cold.”

I don’t think the rain can come down any heavier outside. It hasn’t poured like this here since January. But it’s soothing to fall asleep to, that’s for sure. 

***

“He’s supposed to be here already.”

Dave looks to Fletch, who is impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. “Relax, we don’t go on for another thirty minutes, eh?”

“Twenty minutes, actually,” Martin adds.

Dave shrugs and sits down in the chair that’s facing the mirror, checking himself in the reflection. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

The roadways to Manchester this afternoon have been nothing but cluttered. We woke up late and Alan forgot he had a performance on the Top of the Pops today, so we scrambled around everywhere; to his house for a sampler, to a studio, and to a restaurant to grab some quick grub.

He looks to his watch and taps the steering wheel, his patience with the traffic lights and traffic itself wearing thin. “Come on,” he says under his breath. 

When we get there, the valet attendant hops into the car swiftly and parks the car in a nearby parking garage. Alan walks into the building in a rush and I can barely keep up with him, and once we make it to the dressing rooms, we’ve only got a few minutes to spare. 

I don’t follow him into the room, I stay outside but I can hear them all talking. 

A deep voice speaks up as soon as Alan walks through the doorway. “Where the hell were _you_?” 

“Bloody traffic,” Alan answers with a sharpness. 

A lady with a microphone headpiece and clipboard comes from behind me and knocks on the door. “We’re ready for you to head onto stage now,” she announces.

I move from the door before they walk out with their instruments and head to an area marked ‘Guests’, which leads me into a hallway and onto a floor with hundreds of people crowding the stage in front of them. They’re on stage placing their equipment in different areas, though not plugging in anything, since they won’t be playing live.

When they get the green light to start, it’s almost weird to watch them just lip sync and pretend to press keys on their keyboards. Maybe the word I'm looking for is embarrassing…

The crowd seems to enjoy it though. But then again, I feel like they need to, since they’ll be on television.

When they finish they all walk off of stage and trail back to the dressing rooms. The cameras around them pan to a host and then to the crowd. I sneak out of the main floor before the camera can catch a glimpse of me and start heading to the backstage area, when a tall, muscular man stops me in my tracks.

“Identification,” he sternly demands.

“Uh, I don’t have any, but I’m with th-”

“No ID, no entrance.”

“Can I just-”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

He crosses his arms and watches me closely, but I turn around and head back to the main floor before he can say anything else. This place has been all but welcoming. 

Suddenly, a hand grips mine and pulls me back, and I look to see that it’s Alan. “Where have you been?”

“I was in the crowd,” I answer.

Alan shows the man his ID and this time I get past him. 

“Giving you a hard time, aye?” He teases, still pulling me by the hand and leading us into a room where the rest of the band are gathering their things.

“That was bullshit,” the deep voice from earlier says from the corner of the room. He’s taller than the rest, and he’s even got fresh bleach blonde hair as well. 

“It’s still not as bad as lip syncing to songs at music festivals,” Martin says, zipping up a keyboard case.

“About the same to me,” he replies, throwing on a coat. Alan’s left my side and has gone to put his keyboard back in a black bag, and I stand there near the door frame.

Dave looks up to me from what he was doing and smiles. “Hey, there you are! I was wondering when you’d show up,” he laughs, coming to give me a hug. 

“Wondering?” I ask, hugging him back.

“Yeah, he’s been talking about you ever since we left Japan,” he nods to Alan, who smiles back at me. The other two finally catch on and notice me, grabbing their bags and throwing them over their shoulders. 

“You’re that girl from the hotel bar, yeah? Mia, is it?” Martin asks, walking closer to me. He’s followed by the taller one.

“Yes, Mia,” I reply. “You’re Martin? Yeah, I remember you, a little,” I look to the man behind him, sticking out my hand. “But I don’t think we’ve met?”

We shake hands, and he displays a small grin. “No, we haven’t. I’m Andrew, but you can call me Andy or Fletch, whichever is fine.”

I nod and smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Well, we should get going now before they try and kick us all out,” Alan says with a sigh, slipping his leather jacket on and carrying the bag on his left shoulder.

“Where are we going?” I ask, grabbing his hand and following him to the door we entered through when we first arrived. 

“Home? There’s absolutely nothing to do in Manchester,” he replies with a small laugh.

Dave turns to him. “You’re not going to the pub with us?”

“Where is it?” I ask.

“Up the street, walking distance,” he answers.

Alan looks at me and can probably sense that I want to go. “Alright, we’ll stay. But only for a while.”

The pub isn’t far, just like Dave had mentioned, but walking with these shoes on felt like a mile every step. When we walk in it doesn’t seem to look that bad, while almost every pub up here does.

It’s crowded and loud, as expected for a Friday evening. 

“Well shit,” Dave says displeased. 

Martin let’s the door close and the sounds of the crowd dissipates, but the music still blares from the windows outside. “It’s a fucking mad house in there.”

“Well, what now?” Fletch asks, looking annoyed.

“Maybe going home wasn’t such a bad idea,” Alan adds, looking at me. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“I guess,” I falter. 

Everyone seems to be in an irritated mood since they recorded that show. Once we’re alone in the car, I finally get to ask him why everyone was so tense.

“What was _that_...”

“What was what?” 

“You guys are so fussy.”

“ _What_ …?”

“Oh my god,” I laugh uncontrollably, which makes him glance from the road to me, twice. “That pub wasn’t even that packed! We could’ve stayed awhile. Why was everyone so moody? Even _you_?”

“Everyone? That was just Fletch… he’s always mad about something whenever we have to do one of those T.V. slots,” he explains. “And me? Well, I just wanna get home. We have a radio show to present to tomorrow, in London.”

“Mm-hm, alright then.”

The drive home isn’t too bad. We didn’t stop for food this time. Alan said he really needed to be home and I asked him what was so urgent, but he only vaguely clarified why. I didn’t want to push the subject any further though, I knew he was annoyed with something even though he insisted he wasn’t.

When he drops me off, his attitude seems to shift into a more relaxed and calmer one than before. But he seems worried about something, like he’s going to get caught doing something he’s not supposed to do. It’s probably nothing. He’s busy round the clock, it could be a number of things, who knows. I’m not going to let it bother me.

I open the door to find the lights that I turned on last night are on again and I switch the heater on. The storm last night made the temperature drop about ten degrees cooler. The sun didn’t shine through the thick, grey clouds at all today.

The rain seems to pick up again outside as I start to drift asleep. It’s soft this time, just sprinkles of drops sliding off the roof and onto the ground below. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took a little long, I’ll try to speed the chapter process up a bit ! planning to post the 3rd one in a few days X (:


	3. If You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating for so long, work and school and all that jazz... this one’s been in the drafts for so long already. Enjoy hehehe x

I see my sister Emily’s car roll up to the curb outside and I grab my purse and keys, taking a light jacket from the coat rack and folding it over my arm. She unlocks the car door and I sit down inside. 

“ _You’re late._ ” 

“Well good afternoon, sunshine,” she says sardonically. “Who’s birthday is it again?”

“I told you already.”

“Aww yeah, I forgot. Heading into town for some gifts for the boyfriend, huh? How romantic,” she flutters her eyes, mockingly. 

“Just drive or I’ll push you out of that seat myself,” I glare, but she can’t help but laugh.

“You look so funny when you’re flustered,” she giggles, pulling away from the curb and finally driving. “So where are we going, then?”

My mouth twists in thought. “I don’t know, I was hoping to find a department store or something, I don’t know what to get him.”

“There’s one by the docks, they have a nice selection of clothes,” she suggests. “Unless of course, you’re looking to give him a gift that isn’t quite PG, y’know... for tonight. Then in that case, I have a store in mind.”

“I swear I will-”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude! Although… you weren’t planning that, were you?”

I don't answer. 

She displays a devilish grin. “Hey. No shame, no shame.”

“You’re so insufferable sometimes.”

We make it into the city in no time. It is a Saturday after all, no traffic at noon, but once you’re on the way home from somewhere, that’s when the roads turn into parking lots. There must be hundreds of people inside this store. I should have gone shopping on Thursday, it’s like a labyrinth of customers here. The lines zig zag all the way to the back of the store.

“Let’s find something and get out of here fast,” I say to her. 

The men’s section is the area we come up to first, and it also seems to be the emptiest department right now. 

She sifts through jeans and t-shirts. “So what does he like?”

“Um. He seems to wear a lot of darker clothes.”

“Aha,” she responds shortly. “You’ve never even given me a name. Hell, I don’t think you’ve told me how you two met, either.”

“Alan, his name is Alan. We met on my trip to Japan.”

“Alan what?”

“Last name...? Wilder… _why?_ What’s his last name got to do with anything?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, just want to know. Now where have I heard that name…”

“He’s in a band if that helps,” I reply. The men’s t-shirt collection here doesn’t seem to be at all likeable. Just a bunch of weird designs and neon garments, so I walk to a rack of neutral tone coats and jackets.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, they’re called Depeche Mode,” I whisper, so the people around us don’t hear. 

“That sounds familiar…. yes, now I remember. I think I just saw them on the telly the other day, or week, I can’t remember exactly but I’ve definitely seen them. Top of the pops or summat?”

“Yep. I was there.”

“You really get around, don’t you?” She walks over to me and ruffles my hair a bit. “When was that recorded?”

“Two weeks ago,” I pat my hair down to restore the way it was combed and continue looking through the hanging apparel. One piece finally catches my eye and I lift it up, inspecting the size and price tag. It’s a simple jacket, it’s black, I think he’d wear it. “I’ll just get this.”

“That’s all?”

“I can’t think of anything else,” I look around again, and she hands me a shirt she was holding. 

“How about this?” It’s a red corduroy button up shirt.

I unfold it. “Sure, it’s nice.”

It takes about twenty minutes to get halfway through the line to reach the registers, and on the way there I pick a cologne out from the shelves. It’s called ‘Le Brouillard de la Nuit.’ When I finally get to the check out, I set my items down on the conveyor belt and take out my card from my wallet. 

“Mia?”

I look straight ahead of me from where the voice came from. 

_Fuck_. It’s my ex. He’s standing there, at the end of the other register. I can feel my chest tighten. I avert my gaze back to the bag the cashier hands me. “Thank you,” I say to the worker, turning away and walking fast to try and lose him.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he says, rushing from behind me and grabbing my arm.

I rip my arm from his grip and I glare at him with the coldest expression.

“Mia, please, I-”

“Leave me the hell alone, James,” I scold. 

I walk a few more feet forward, but he yanks me back to him and I yelp. I lose my balance and the people around us are staring. “Let go of me,” I plead in a half whisper, tears forming in my eyes. 

“Listen to me,” he’s not pretending to have that soft voice anymore. He’s gripping my arm tightly now, until a security guard walks up to us and breaks it up, allowing me to hurry away into the store to try and find Emily. 

I spot her in one of the shoe aisles. “Let’s leave now, please, let’s go,” I say, pulling her by the hand.

“Hold up, just wait a second,” she says, pulling me back into the aisle. “What’s happened to you?”

“He’s here, he’s- he’s in the store. I need to leave.”

“Mia, Calm down. Who is here?!” She stares at me in confusion but then it clicks with her. “Where?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I sigh. There’s a back exit near us, and I start to walk towards it. “Please, just- come on.” She follows behind me and we leave the store. The car ride back is silent and she doesn’t ask about what happened.

As I expected, we’re stuck in hood to bumper traffic just three exits away from my place. 

She looks over to me. “You alright?”

I give her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“You didn’t look fine… back there.”

“I don’t…,” I falter. “Just forget it. Please?”

She nods and turns the radio a little louder. As soon as we pull up to the entrance of my building, she pulls me in for a hug and kisses my forehead. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

I step out of the car and she lowers the window. 

“Love you, have fun tonight,” she winks.

“Love you too.”

She waves goodbye and I do the same. And at only four in the afternoon, what a day it has already been.

*

It took only a few minutes for me to wrap his presents, but the big trouble was the cooking part. I had put lasagna in the oven, which should be done in a while. I called Alan about half an hour ago to come over so he should be arriving here soon. The small bakery across from my neighbourhood had freshly baked cakes, but I decided to get a quartet of chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting instead because there would be too much leftover from a sheet cake. 

I sit at the table reading the latest Premier magazine. Almost simultaneously, the timer for the oven goes off at the same time a knock comes from the door. 

“Just a minute!” I shout, placing the dinner on the stovetop and rushing to the door.

I swing the door open and reveal him leaning against the door frame, fumbling with his hands. 

“Dinner just came out of the oven,” I say, moving out of the way so he can come inside. 

“Smells good. What’d you make?”

He sits at the table and places his keys in front of him. I reach for two plates in the cupboard and cut pieces from the dish. “Lasagna, I hope you’re a fan of Italian cuisine. Vegetarian friendly just for you, by the way.”

I set the food in front of us. “You have a great memory to remember that very tiny detail about me.”

“Yes, well… sometimes it feels like a curse to remember so much,” I say, taking a bite of my food. “Anyway, what did you do this past week?”

He dabs his mouth with the napkin. “The same old thing, just radio shows and interviews, things like that. What about you?”

“I haven’t actually been doing much, just routine shoots.”

He nods, chewing his food. But he then seems to notice something on my arm.

“What’s that from?” He points to it with his fork.

I look at what he’s staring at, and finally notice a dark, purple bruise that’s formed on my wrist from earlier. “I uh, I had a run in with… it’s- it’s nothing.” 

He hears my voice start to tremble, so he grabs my hand and squeezes it softly. “Love, you can tell me.”

I stare at it once again. How did I not notice it before he pointed it out? “I went to the store earlier, and I… my ex was there. He saw me, and things got a little out of hand-”

“ _What?_ ” Alan asks, his voice sounding serious now. “He did this to you?”

“Well, I’m alright now, it’s over with…,” I answer him, now feeling a bit uneasy. He carefully inspects my wrist, accidentally brushing against the wound. I wince and let out a quiet ‘ow’, making him withdraw his hands. “Sorry,” he speaks again, but this time softly.

“It’s okay,” I notice his plate is empty and I stop eating. “Did you want more? Here, I’ll-”

“I’ve got it, you eat,” he smiles reassuringly.

After a few moments of silence I try to think of what else to say. “I didn’t want to mention it, but things felt a bit weird between us, y’know, when we last saw each other.”

“When I dropped you off?” I hear him walk to the fridge in the back of me, taking out ice cubes and putting them in a small sandwich bag.

“No, the whole day. It was, um, interesting to say the least.”

“Oh,” he says, sitting back down. “What part in particular?”

“You just seemed to be a bit irritable, that’s all. And a little paranoid.”

“It’s the lack of sleep,” he chuckles. “All those days and nights of travelling, and not to mention the never ending promotions and interviews, it’s bound to take a toll on an individual.”

“Yeah. I see your point, I’m just overthinking.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Maybe, just a little. Here, put this on the bruise,” he hands me the bag and a cotton kitchen towel. “It’ll reduce the swelling a bit.”

“Thank you.”

After dinner, he insists that he washes the dishes, stating that it’s only fair he helps clean up since I made dinner. When he’s done, we lounge on the floor of my living room. No lights are on, but we’re surrounded by a couple of candles. I get the presents from my room and cupcakes from the fridge.

“This is for you,” I hand him the bag full of gifts and he takes it, unpacking it immediately. “Happy birthday, love.”

Inside the bag includes everything I bought earlier, and an added bonus: a cassette mixtape I finished making just before I cooked dinner. He inspects everything with a huge grin, leaning in to give me a kiss. “All of this is great. Thank you, Mia.”

“Of course,” I say.

For a moment we stare at each other and then the candle light, not saying a word, just listening to the wind sway the trees and bushes outside. He then looks at me, deep in thought about something. 

It doesn’t take long for us to latch on to each other’s lips again, this time with much more force. We get up slowly and walk to the bedroom, tripping and bumping into various things on the way there. He presses me up against the closed bedroom door, barely allowing me to open it. Once we’re on the bed, all garments are coming off, everything is thrown to the side or onto the floor. He’s over me, sinking his lips all over my neck, making me moan softly. 

Every kiss sends an unforgivable amount of energy through me. I feel breathless and I finally feel him. He plants sloppy, passionate kisses on my mouth. 

The beads of sweat start to form on our bodies and everything is warm, my heart is beating a million beats per second. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. The touch of his skin on mine is almost electrical- the shared spark from the two of us just getting better and better with every passing moment. “Oh...,” is all that can escape from my lips in a hushed tone. 

This reminds me all too well of our first encounter in the hotel, but we hadn’t taken this extra step. Our breathing is equally faster and shorter, and it just gets even quicker when we both start to slowly move in some kind of motion, pleasing one another with just the simplest of touches. The warmth from his body sends shivers up my spine for some reason.

He places his weight on my wrists, and it makes me flinch in pain, causing him to move. “I’m sorry, forgot,” he says worriedly. “Alright?” I nod. He continues, but this time not as robust as before.

It takes only a few minutes for us to reach a finish, and when it’s done, all senses of mine feel out of body. He covers us both with the sheets and tries to catch his breath, which I can feel on my shoulder. I move closer and he wraps me in his arms. My heart feels like it could burst right out of my chest.

“You okay?” He asks again, placing his hands on my forehead and moving the hair from my eyes. 

“Yea...” I pant and smile reassuringly. 

We lie there, in each other’s arms, in the darkness. After what just happened there is no more need for words at the moment. We just take it all in, the heat from both of our bodies still creating an atmosphere that I could live inside of forever. 

*

“Miss… Florea?”

The receptionist calls out from the desk that sits to the right of me. She’s holding a clipboard, reading through names and flipping the papers attached to the clip.

I stand up, gulping as I walk over to her, confirming my presence. She walks us down the hall, glancing back at me. “She’s very angry with you, you know,” she utters out.

It’s understandable. I’m late. I arrived two hours late to my meeting with my agent, and I know she’s pissed. Things, well, got out of hand last night, so to speak, and Alan let me sleep in past ten because we had a late night. The appointment was scheduled for eleven and I didn’t even reach downtown until twelve. And the thing is, it isn’t the first time I’ve arrived late to a meeting. Strike two. 

The lady opens the door, and Ms. Schmidt is sitting in her chair. As soon as I enter, the door is shut behind me and I’m left with a long pause of silence until she looks up from her work.

“Sit down,” she says, not making eye contact. Instead, she looks back to her portfolio that she’s sifting through. “This is the second time you have been late.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’ll m-”

“You should be.” She looks greatly insulted. “All I do is break my back for you, to get you the best slots and photo sessions there are. Not to mention the countless money I’ve spent on promotions for you,” she shoots back, coldly.

“Ms. Schmidt, please, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

She eyes me curiously, yet with a look of denial. “That better be the case, then.” I nod and stay silent as she pulls out a small stack of paper. “Since you’re on your way to becoming one of our biggest models, we’ve been thinking of changing your position to an exclusive runway model for the time being. Of course, this won’t work if you choose to sloth around like you have. You need to stay on track or else this won’t happen.”

“Oh, um, I can do it. My performance will be perfect for you, I swear. I can do it.”

“Very well,” she places a pen down in front of me. “I need you to sign these.”

There’s quite a lot of paperwork she’s handed out to me, and by the time it’s taken me to complete all of the forms, she’s already been through three meetings with other clients. I knock and open the door, placing the stack of sheets back onto her desk.

“Here’s a list of schedules for you. And be sure to memorise the dates and times, I won’t tolerate anything like this again,” she states, sliding a small notebook across the desk.

“Yes, of course,” I smile but she doesn’t return the same look back. Instead, her focus shifts back to what she was doing before. I didn’t expect her to be in a good mood. I’m just lucky she didn’t fire me as soon as I walked through that door.

*

Alan’s parked out front. I asked him for a ride as soon as I knew I was going to be late, given the fact that I don’t have a car myself, the bus wouldn’t get me here in time, and my sister is currently at work.

He’s writing in his notebook when I walk up. “Still got it? Your job?”

I sit inside the car, slipping off my jacket. “Yes, only from a slim chance. Very, very slim chance. Actually, it went better than I expected. They even moved me from my previous position,” I explain, looking at the planner she gave me. I notice that we turn down an unfamiliar road, and I watch the buildings pass from a distance now, as we enter onto a motorway headed west. “Where are we going?”

“A studio,” he speeds the car up just a bit. “I forgot that they had told me they wanted to meet up after three.”

“For what?”

“Plans for a new single, for the summer. Although, I’m not quite why they’ve booked a session now.” He raises his eyebrows. “We planned on working on it after this upcoming leg, our last leg of the tour.”

“So what’s the plan, then?”

“I’m not sure….,” his voice fades, “I’ll have to find out.”

Half an hour later, we roll up to a desolate parking lot, with hardly anyone on the streets. The surrounding area is not overly dodgy, but it’s definitely not far from it. There’s voices coming from the back of the room when we open the door, and they’re all crowded in a circle. 

“This hopefully won’t be long, there’s a place to sit over there if you want to,” Alan says to me, pointing to a lounge area.

I nod and watch him walk away. When I prepare to walk over to the couches, I notice a woman sitting down, with her back facing me. She’s thin and has long dark hair, and in her hands is a thick book.

“Hello,” I speak, sitting to the left of her. 

She displays a grin, taking her reading glasses off and places her book to the side. “Hi, you must be Alan’s new girl, yes?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Martin’s told me about you,” she smiles. Ah, so this is Martin’s girlfriend. “I’m Christina. What’s your name?”

I’m just picking up on her heavy German accent. “Mia,” I stick my hand out for her to shake. “You’re from Germany?”

She nods. “Yes, Berlin. Mart and I met there a few years ago.”

“That’s lovely.”

“What do you do?”

I look back to her, slightly confused. “Sorry?”

“Um, I meant for… you know, for work?”

“Oh, I’m a model. Generally based in London, but I do travel around quite a lot. I was just in Berlin last December.”

“I see,” she takes her coat from the side and places it on her lap. “How did you like it? Berlin?”

“I loved it, very cultured. I especially enjoyed the shops, the antique shops to be exact. It’s so tempting to buy everything in there!”

She smiles. “Yes, I love them too. Maybe one day I can show you around the city. Personal tour guide, just for you.”

“That would be amazing. I’d love to do that sometime.”

“Are you going on tour with the boys in July?” She asks.

I take a sip of water from the tiny bottle I had in my purse. “Yes, I think so.” 

“Oh, that’s good! We can definitely spend time together, then.”

After what seems like ages with conversations on different topics one after another, I notice Alan and the rest stand up and grab their things. He looks at me and nods to the door, signaling that we’re leaving.

“Looks like it’s time to go,” Christina frowns, as we both stand up to get ready. She draws me in for a tight hug. “Well, this was really fun and I loved getting to know you. I’m excited for you to tag along with us in a couple of weeks.” She excitedly wraps her arms around me. 

“Me too,” I’m surprised by the hug, but I don’t mind. I pat her back and we both pull away. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Christina.”

“Same to you.” She looks in back of me, cheerfully waving. “Hello, Alan!”

“Hello. Ah, I see you two have met.” Alan walks up, placing a hand on my back. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” 

I don’t get to greet Dave, Fletch or Martin, but only because I feel utterly exhausted. 

“So what did you guys talk about?”

Alan seems to relax in the driver seat, using only one hand to steer. “Really just a band meeting about the next leg of touring. Martin’s got a demo for a single but he didn’t want to show us yet since the lyrics are ‘unfinished’”. 

“Oh... so he has a demo, but there aren’t any lyrics? How does that work?”

Alan shakes his head. “No, I meant, well.... um. Exactly that. No lyrics. Just an instrumental, love.”

“I see,” I nod, confused a bit.

On the rest of the drive home, the sun gets ready to set in the opposite direction we’re driving in. The orange beams of light reflect off of the car mirrors, almost blinding. Alan’s got his Ray-bans on finally. The radio is quiet but he’s got it on the classical station, making it easier for me to relax and lean back, closing my eyes.

  
  
  



End file.
